Tag Archive | gratitude

The Beleaguered Debate

TheMagicRealist.com

It’s been said truth sounds like hate to those who hate truth.
Now, if that ain’t a paradox, send me to school!
Does this mean that falsehood sounds like love to the ones
Among us who serve mendacity by the tons?
That one’s truth is another’s excuse for a duel
Is a symptom that manifests from early youth.

I am prone to dig deeper to get to the core
Of that which is excitable, pleasant or not.
When big planets drop by and move in for a year
I could choose to expand my affairs without fear.
There are things about passion that scare me a lot.
Though I keep on complaining, I do ask for more.

When the elements fire and water touch base
The emotions are heated to levels above
That which cannot withstand being liquid in form.
They expand with a power apart from the norm.
We can be broken down to be rebuilt in love.
It’s a Jupiter/Scorpio thing taking place.

By the Numbers

TheMagicRealist.com

The Pi-th root of infinity, should it exist
As a variable that traverses the mind,
Is a root counter rational. And it’s not real.
Even though it’s not real math, it does have the feel
Of the essence of living among humankind.
Within seas of infinities, none are dismissed.

Any root of infinity should be the same
As the sum of infinities, meaning, them all.
That is, if it could be quantifiable stuff
Where one gets to the point where one says, “That’s Enough!”
Yet, indeed it’s a concept one couldn’t call small.
It does draw the mind close like the moth to the flame.

By the numbers, I number among the ignored.
That is nothing to cry about. I will be heard
As my meaning has function with my heart and mind.
Might that happen this time around? I am resigned
To a life of fulfillment transfigured through word.
There are worlds of infinities to be explored.

Opposition to Change

TheMagicRealist.com

That resistance is much like impedance is what
I believe non-hair-splitters believe is absurd.
Opposition to current flow through any coil
Is not like through resistor where current must toil.
Free electrons are volatile – easily stirred
Into motion. They book when their path is clear cut.

There’s resistance to life. There’s impedance as well.
I’ve both AC and DC afoot through my nerves.
When I wish for my dreams to come true, but I doubt,
I’ve got AC creating impedance throughout
My inductive creativeness. My flow deserves
Resonance in its purpose wherein I excel.

I can deal with resistance in life when in tune.
I can sense the direction my life force has faced.
When I feel heavy heat loss with energy low,
I’ve got too much resistance impeding the flow
Of the best life that I can live with heart well-placed
Within earth’s human circuitry where all commune.

Two Lips by Land or Tulips by Sea

TheMagicRealist.com

Many landscapes and seascapes avail themselves to
Simple pleasures of living that people enjoy.
Many lips go for kissing or catching the breeze.
There are spaces for tulips along friendly seas.
Whether tulips or few lips, each harbor the ploy
Of accessing the inner self like an old shoe.

Two lips land locked could be but one half of a quad
Where the missing half seems not a task to conceive.
Or two lips can be literate, light and at ease
With the spirit of nature who’s willing to please.
With some tulips between lips some hearts do achieve
Some small measure of happiness. Does that seem odd?

It’s the toss of a coin, sometimes, how things evolve.
Often life seems a game of chance hostile to will.
But it seems, at the same time, that I’m in control
Of what happens in my life and with my own soul.
That control comes from within – the voice that is still.
With a lifetime of life scenes, I’ve nothing to solve.

A Codec for Cotton

TheMagicRealist.com

I do most things online. I get digital sex
Through a modem equipped with touching technique
That sends chills up my spine when I’m getting things done.
When it comes to my laundry, my cycle’s begun.
I upload it to DigiClean once every week.
It downloads clean and folded, according to specs.

But sometimes I have trouble converting my load
To dot lnd format. This causes me stress.
I know Customer Service will lend me a hand.
They are always so friendly, and they understand
That although my ill applet has me in a mess
I will soon have clean laundry within my abode.

Often times it’s the codec that culprits my cause.
They get changed much too frequently due to the way
Bits of data treat fabric, synthetic or real.
They know nothing of texture. They can’t up and feel.
A fresh codec for cotton does brighten my day.
When one does laundry online, one obeys the laws.

Customer Service

TheMagicRealist.com

Have I been of good service? I’m nervous to know
Because I’ve grown so old in a very short time.
Have I done unto others what they’ve done for me?
Have I taught them – or they, me – a new way to see?
Have I wasted my time with my making verse rhyme?
Valued Customer, should I remain here or go?

Many crossroads or turning points scatter my way.
They reflect my decisions made well in advance
Of my birth in the physical realness of earth.
Each new vantage point offers one choice of self-worth
Or the other one where soothing has not a chance.
When I choose incorrectly, do self I betray?

My reflection on earth does not fear to be wrong.
It is but a mere image of all I’ve become.
I cannot make a bad choice. No end is in sight.
Consciousness is eternal. My future is bright.
My decisions in life amount to the grand sum
Of a soulful surviving. My life force is strong.

If Our Thoughts Are as Stardust

TheMagicRealist.com

There are zillion quadrillions of stars, so they say –
All the ones who have counted them one at a time.
I believe them. I’ve no call to doubt their fine work.
I respect them for work that would drive me berserk.
From stardust to star system, each star lives its prime
Then returns to its dust state for instant replay.

Now, how many fresh thoughts does one think in a day?
It turns out, not so many. Our habits say so.
We think thoughts we thought yesterday, most of the time.
More than most of those thoughts are not worth a broke dime.
We think thousands of thoughts a day, yet we don’t know
How to think them effectively, to our dismay.

Every thought ever crafted from day one ‘til now
Still exists in the cosmos in its stardust form.
When our stardust-like thoughts trigger others the same,
A new thought with momentum will burst into flame.
Still more thoughts that are like it converge in a storm.
We can keep our thoughts bright as far as we allow.

Spirit Is a Full Wave Rectifier

TheMagicRealist.com

A long series of ups and downs marks this sort trip
Through a life that is lived induced into the next.
One half cycle is joy, and the other is pain.
I experience both to my truest self’s gain.
But my true self in spirit can never be vexed
As the half cycle negative, true self will flip.

Any life situation I see in some way
That is not to my liking – a pain up the path
My true self doesn’t go there. That’s why I feel pain.
It does see things quite differently, without disdain.
As it processes sine waves, the cool aftermath
Is full rectification with zero delay.

Life in spirit is positive – nothing but good.
It’s our good times – and bad times – that do make it so.
I can translate the pain any way that I may.
But I know that my true self just knows a great day.
Though my negative half cycles hinder my flow
I can know they will pass as I will and well should.

The Mystery of Faith

TheMagicRealist.com

Without faith and with shoes on, I walk across time.
Half way past holy bullshit, I always find more.
From the fake polls that tell me that Clinton should win
To the priests who spunk little boys (Ain’t that a sin?),
I know faith is a mystery dressed as a whore.
It’s complexity makes for a rich paradigm.

I can take what seems solid and firm to the touch
As mere referral points that in time will dissolve
Into nothingness, just like the space in-between
All particulate substances that can’t be seen.
God has given each soul its own puzzle to solve.
As for seeking consensus – it doesn’t mean much.

Yet, it means much to those who would have me believe
There’s a God who’s outside me who’s bigger than mine.
We are followers. That’s why we’re tended like sheep.
We are strung out for someone’s commandments to keep.
Any fool with a message will suit the world fine.
Faith is oft’ an elixir to numb the naïve.

What Every Colon Knows

TheMagicRealist.com

One would think I’m a colon or that it is me
As I move about backed up with scowl on the brain.
If I find myself trapped near the end of my gut,
Seems my bowel is an asshole who’s tired of the rut
That we both made together while waxing insane.
My behavior’s atrocious, as I can well see.

I gave up on the action paths. None will work well.
I’ve popped shitters like Skittles and chased them with milk
Of magnesia. I’ve tried tons of ex-lax and more.
I’m so hell bent on crapping, I’ve got my own store.
I would like stuff to flow softly through me like silk.
But it seems that my blasted pipes are shot to hell.

On the other hand, though, that may not be quite so.
I create my reality whether I’m trapped
In a body that feels like it’s felt its last days
Or in one that feels wholesome in all natural ways,
When I clean my vibration, that bowel will be zapped
With a blast of pure energy. This I well know.

A Fantabulous Fumbling

TheMagicRealist.com

I would hippity hem-haw and yippee tie yea
If I had but in inkling of what is in store.
With my ass in a sling that’s attached to nowhere
I’m a fumbling freak phantom no one can compare.
I’m a goofball – a catcher’s mitt right to the core.
Yet, I’m not in a ballgame. I can’t even play.

Serendipitous circumstance falls upon me
In a way that seems clumsy – like part of an act.
But no one can screw up quite as well as I can.
I am male and I’m hetero. Am I a man?
I can’t take people’s judgements as matter of fact.
I am here to seek balance. Thank God I can see!

A Fantabulous Fumbling through life like a breeze
Through a house of cards ready and willing to be
Cast in disarray, yielding to requited bliss,
I’m a laughable life. There is naught to remiss.
So, perhaps I was born to get others to see
Maybe nothing. In such case, I’ve naught to appease.

Interlaced Video

TheMagicRealist.com

I am radio active. I am a half-life
And a wavelength that’s shorter than my eyes can know.
I am half here… half not here for each moment passed.
Some converge into now, and I wish those would last.
I’m an incomplete being most moments although
Every moment’s reception is sharp as a knife.

This is not Dress Rehearsal. I’m rarely on stage
And my act is not drama, for that can be judged.
I believe in this half-life I live here and now
And I chose it wholeheartedly so I’d allow
Ample room for becoming. But I haven’t budged
Since believing I’m measured by some other’s gauge.

It’s a half-life for me. I won’t get it all done.
A complete fully functioning being I’m not.
I prepare for the next life. This life is not all
Life that I’ll ever live. That would be living small.
As my world sees right through me, I could be forgot.
I’m at home with my half-life. It’s better than none.

Too Much to Chew

TheMagicRealist.com

I’ve got too much too chew. It came out of the blue
Or oblivious. I don’t know which one it is.
Simple greetings befall me as well as small talk.
By default I’m committed. There’s no room to balk.
I’ve been offered a chewing as well as a quiz
Once again I’m amazed by what I’ve stepped into.

This huge bone I’ve accepted seemed small at the start.
Or perhaps my small eyes see most anything big.
My eyes get me in trouble. My loose tongue as well.
I do act on my own and create my own hell.
If my eyes could see big things as small as a twig
Perhaps then I’d be shielded from hurt to the heart.

I should bite off a large chunk if I think I can
Get my jaws wrapped around it not seeming the fool.
Yet when I find that I’ve bitten off more than I
Could digest in a lifetime, I’m ready to try
Anything that might stop my becoming a tool.
I can be of good service and still be a man.

This Universe Knows and Adores Me

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It’s a match made in heaven, this cosmos and I.
We delight in each other’s benevolent grace.
Unbeknownst to no one, I’m engaged to pure fun
And my life is worth loving and living ‘til done.
There is more time for rhyming with leather and lace.
If I could, without wings, I would take off and fly.

If I but allow it, I will feel all the love
That flows to me and through me and makes myself whole.
When I love myself first, then my cosmos responds
Often instantly. This surely strengthens our bonds.
Our relationship is such that we are one soul.
There is heaven between us as well as above.

My dear universe sees me when I am unseen
In my own separation from what it knows well.
I am loved by this universe and understood.
When I’m out of alignment, my silly thoughts could
Cast upon me some cheap psychological spell.
My soulmate is the universe with heart serene.

The Decisive Device

TheMagicrealist.com

A decisive device is one that can’t act nice.
Its decisions it makes with no input at all
From the user who just wants to get some things done.
I do not go for gaming nor surfing for fun.
And it gets so aggressive and makes me feel small.
I can’t deal with a dick headed devil device.

Don’t peek-a-boo to me with messages from
Your right corner, peripheral to my intent.
You do tittle my gaze as if I were a cat.
You should know that I’m human, and what’s wrong with that?
You continue to dick me. Indeed, you’re hell bent
On securing my madness so then you will cum.

A divisive sufficing may be what I need.
My decisive devices can get me perplexed.
When they tell me they’re doing things I don’t want done
Should I gather my privates, then turn tail and run?
I can’t figure out why things are so over sexed.
I shall guard my virginity as I proceed.

Life Is a Lockwash

TheMagicRealist.com, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

My caress is a wash unto those of my kind
And my kind could be all kind or no one but me.
One can think about kindness awash in pure love.
Surely all kinds can do kind things sort of kind of.
I can’t keep life from washing straight out to the sea
Because we’re locked together. Our souls are combined.

It’s awash in some contrast. My life’s not a dream.
Often times I’m impatient and damned to be right.
In the long run my life could explode in my face
If I don’t learn to concede some battles in grace.
Life before and life after this life is a bright
Reawakening to self-fulfillment supreme.

Life’s a lockwash. I’m screwed down to earth, as it were.
I am taut way past finger tight. Pressure is keen
Yet it can’t be perceived well unless I express
It in some way appropriate – not to excess.
When released from the lockwash of life there is seen
All that held me together for life to occur.

My Happiness Is My Gift to All

To others the greatest of gifts I can give
Is my happiness. Not that I have other things.
There are gifts that I give that have value to some
But the gift that is lasting is when I become
Mostly happy and joyful about what life brings.
Am I happy toward others? That’s how I should live.

I do seek joy selfishly. It’s the best way
To develop discernment in going about
Meeting others and caring about how they feel.
In releasing resistance my whole life can heal.
When I meet folks I want there to be not a doubt
That my motive is hearing what they have to say.

I must be in my joy or else I cannot be
Of assistance to anyone – not any way.
What I’m offering graciously is part of me.
Now, if I’m in a bad mood, it’s easy to see
That I’m out of alignment until the new day.
Mostly, though, I’m a present who’s offered for free.

Joy Is a Goal We Are ALL Working Toward

TheMagicRealist.com

Simple joy is the goal that we’re all working toward.
It’s the reason we do anything that we do.
It’s the basis of love and for finding things out.
It’s the reason that with lofty dreams we’re devout.
What we think will bring joy is what leads us all through
Bouts of painstaking diligence toward our reward.

It may seem that’s not so often times when we’re not
In alignment and open to be, have and do
Anything we desire no matter how grand.
And it takes some adjusting to well understand
How our thinking and feeling can offer a clue
To achieving our dreams that cannot be forgot.

We perceive joy uniquely – each in one’s own way.
Whether knowing or not where our motives lead to,
We are working toward joy every step of the way.
We each recognize this when we’re willing to play
In accordance with what makes the heart sing anew.
We all work toward the same goal each and every day.

A Cozy Corner in Hell

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Not a flame do I see through the walls that bind me
To my own belief systems and to my ideals.
No sensation of heat do I feel at this time.
It’s been creeping up slowly – a gradual climb.
Yet the only thing that could be fast on my heels
Is whatever I’m running from, were I not free.

There is no constant sameness of torment I feel.
But if I chose to feel some, my walls would agree.
They would burn away quickly and leave me exposed
To the flames I had feared and had kept my mind closed.
Life has given me purpose to burn and to be
A well-tempered perceiver of that which is real.

A comfortable room that does not have a view
Of the torment and peril apparently so
Is my space of recluse as I sort my hell out.
Do I fancy self-torture? There should be great doubt.
I seek solace in knowing what most others know…
That the hell that’s apparent cannot be so true.

Mistress Therapeutia

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Your Mistress Therapeutia is always on call
Since the time of the dawning of Woman In Charge.
This puts Man in a frenzy. His dick at stake
As he fears minds of women may be more awake
And in tune with humanity’s worth, by and large.
Men should stand right behind them with hearts proud and tall.

Strong Mistress Therapeutia knows management well.
She is built to build families from foundation to
The most creative folds within nature’s cortex.
The embellishment of nature’s loving vortex,
Women’s bodies are sacred. This fact rings anew
As the women forthcoming are willing to tell.

I can live for that coming of age once again
When the warrior Woman commanded the tribe.
And there weren’t many wars because women kicked ass.
Many wars went unfought due to critical mass
Disengaging in tune to a more loving vibe.
I’m delighted to see women challenging men!

As Spirit Becomes a Science

TheMagicRealist.com, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

If the caveman appeared in our vast world today
Would he think he has died and gone to the beyond?
Would he freak at the flame from the short burning stick
And be awestruck by big buildings made out of brick?
I would think he’d be baffled and slow to respond.
Once he’d gathered his wits he might cast them away.

This high-tech world we live in is wondrous indeed.
It’s evolved many lightyears in such a short time.
But the schism exists still between what we know
And that which is inscrutable – stubbornly so.
If comparisons make sense, we could reach our prime
In the upcoming eons with freedom decreed.

When it comes to good ‘woo-woo’, we fashion the best
With our psychic phenomena kept under shroud
Because when they’re exposed they are subject to scorn.
Yet in clashing with science new insights are born.
Science comes up with weird stuff and speaks it out loud.
Then a new understanding is put to the test.

Octal Antics For Hex Romantics

TheMagicRealist.com

Erudite is the errant one well on the way
To a system of numbering cast from the norm.
A translational piece of the puzzle fulfills
All the needs of machines with their digital wills.
It’s the binary linguist who must outperform
Any functional program machines must obey.

It’s that ‘there-or-not’ language machines speak so well.
On and Off is a concept that’s novel and sleek.
Ones and Zeroes are alphabet soup to be fed
To the processor where they are carefully read.
Bits of data through systems is somewhat unique.
But those numbers get cumbersome, as one can tell.

That’s the reason for Octal… And Hex, by the way.
Both these systems can translate big numbers to small.
Just a hand full of symbols – so easy to read.
And machines understand them so they will succeed
In performing efficiently for one and all.
Hex and Octal are systems that are here to stay.

The Black Widow Is Benign in Spirit

TheMagicRealist.com, The Magic Realist, Magic Realism

Seems the widow’s a bitch when she’s not had her fill
Of the lover before who escaped to live on.
Life is cruel on all levels – not just with the bugs.
We can suck dry our enemies and give friends hugs.
It’s the widow, in this case, who’s gifted with brawn.
She decides who she eats by the whim of her will.

But it’s only in this life the bitch is so mean.
Though to her it’s the natural feminine way.
From the next life she watches her babies evolve.
She will never behold them. It is her resolve
To make sure that they all get the chance, come what may,
To experience living among nature’s green.

Her next hubby’s the next meal though he’s not aware.
She will need a full stomach to make babies grow.
By the same token, hubby is poised to move fast.
Once the romance is over, he wants life to last.
But if he doesn’t make it, he knows where he’ll go…
To the afterworld where creatures live without care.

A Wet and Vibrant Dream

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Can one twiddle ho-hum in a trance while at sea
With the water so calm it could put one to sleep?
When I’m not in the moment I tend to miss out
On the fortunate happenings jumping about.
In this sea we call life we can go for a deep
Understanding of ourselves and what we can be.

I’m too busy, sometimes, with my head in my work,
That I seem to be sitting still as life speeds by.
Life can rock the boat gently to give me a nudge.
It can wreck it severely and I am the judge.
I can choose to be present or not even try.
That I’m offered the choice is one valuable perk.

Life is cast in a richness and wetness of flow
That surrounds and consumes everything that exists.
All of life is connected. There’s nothing apart
From the whole of creation ‘til now since its start.
As I navigate life it’s my soul that persists
In its quest to find meaning and joyfully grow.

To Allow My Well Being, I must Be in Joy

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We can learn much about joy by watching our young
As they take in each moment as water to sponge.
Their wellbeing is guaranteed. Life is secure.
And however they take life, their feelings are pure.
When provided a fun pool they eagerly plunge.
They’re composers. The songs of their lives can be sung.

How they do it is something we could take to heart.
We’re like broadcast receivers – the way we behave.
If I’m tuned to one hundred-point niner FM
AM stations elude me, indeed all of them.
I must tune to the happiness consciousness wave
If I want to give any good day its best start.

Indications that we and wellbeing are one
Are expressed in our feelings of passion and glee
And through exhilaration for each moment new.
Who’d have thought that our kids have the healthiest clue
To our living in joy with our spirits set free.
Everything about living should be based on fun.

Earth Trek

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These are the voyages we’re eager to take.
Is the purpose in coming to figure things out?
Some folks tend to do that and should think it’s ok.
Why not know what the parents know while we’re at play?
After all, where we came from seems mired in doubt.
As I gather my data I feel more awake.

I engage this amnesia made into a dream
Much as most other folks who partake of the same.
Somehow, I know we know one another quite well
In some other reality where we all dwell
In a place where we greet one another by name
And all things of magnificence are as they seem.

Our continuing mission is just to seek out.
We are gifted with strangeness and newness of heart.
We’re new life. We are civilized some of the time.
And at others we treat one another like slime.
We begin each away mission with a fresh start
And a brand-new adventure devoid of doubt.

When I See What I’m Looking For, I Know What To Do

TheMagicRealist.com

By my visualizing my favored outcome
The most meaningful action is always inspired.
There is not a whole lot of my crafting a plan
And then working to work it as hard as I can
Until I’ve lost ambition and grow to be tired.
I will focus myself where desire comes from.

As my wanting feels good to me, that guides me to
More of thoughts that are easy and make me feel good,
From that place of alignment, I am guided well.
My soul hears divine messages clear as a bell
And my work is to make sure that they’re understood
By the ego who may not believe all is true.

Action that is inspired is joy fulfilled.
There is great satisfaction in moving with ease
And in tune with one’s spirit. As life starts to flow
All the dis-ease about me will then up and go.
I accumulate valuable life expertise
Even though I’m imperfect and often strong willed.

No One Else Needs to Know This

TheMagicRealist.com

What the Bleep is this ‘Secret’ upon open scroll
Placed there eons of time ago and with great care?
Does the cosmos make puzzles for us out of spite?
When we finally rectify them, are we right
If we make of these writings a gospel affair?
There’s potential for folks to give up their control.

No one else needs to know what I’ve learned of today.
Not unless they are with me and singing my song.
I have no urge to preach to a choir who hears
Only that which they should notwithstanding weak ears.
When I keep the tongue tempered I cannot go wrong.
I speak only when there is something I must say.

It is not necessary for one other soul
To go hog wild and nilly to learn all about
Natural Laws of the Universe as I observe
Them in action among all the motives I serve.
I am the attractor of my life, no doubt.
No one else needs to know this stuff to make them whole.

I Feel Good When I Appreciate

TheMagicRealist.com

When I acknowledge things, I feel so very good.
It’s a fact that, when taken for granted, I may
On occasion make cursing and swearing my work.
And it makes not a difference should I wear a smirk.
I must be strictly mindful of where my thoughts play.
I must quit my downsizing things – that is, I should.

To appreciate things is the secret to life
And I’ve heard this said many times over the years.
Since I’ve heard it enough times do I live by rote?
There’s no way for my living to cause me to gloat.
I’d appreciate all things to banish all fears
And live happily ever and immune to strife.

I become the whole person who appreciates.
Over time I do thrive and my spirit is free
To appreciate good things I notice each day.
I fulfill every reason to be swept away
In my own way of being a creature of glee.
All the good things of living, my heart celebrates.

Whatever Grinds Your Sea Salt

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Some men love to spank Hanky when Panky is steeped
In some other dank business that’s not of their own.
Seems all warnings of blindness one never will heed.
He will keep on performing his most selfish deed.
He will wrestle that monkey until it’s full grown
Then he’ll yank it some more until it has bo-peeped.

I would think it sound nature to find full relief
In whatever which way one must do what is done.
No one has any right to climb anyone’s tree.
One could train a good squirrel, though, to do it for fee.
So whatever will put your hotdog in the bun.
Do it wildly and proudly, and don’t make it brief.

One would float a bad boat with a lead overcoat
So it’s not recommended, but all else is cool.
And whatever will make that drunk chicken stand straight
Give the thing a tight fistful, for passion won’t wait.
Don’t get caught with your pants down. You’ll look like a fool.
What can surf through one’s channels is done by remote.

The Cosmos Requires This Work from Me

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Is it daytime or nighttime? It’s not that I care.
I could glance at the corner to know which it is.
By not caring, I’m knowing that I’m on my game.
I can write through the night knowing from whence it came.
And its source will not let my mind turn into fizz.
I am constantly working. To me that seems fair.

All this work that I do… Who and what is it for?
Did I fall through a crack in the cosmos somehow?
Who on earth gives me license to do what I do?
There are others who do this… perhaps better too.
My authority comes from the ones who allow
Every being alive to achieve what is more.

Not a timeclock is present here in my workspace.
I’m kept track of by bosses not seen with my eyes.
They know well when I’m working. It’s all of the time.
Even while I’m unconscious I’m driven by rhyme.
All I know about time is it seems that it flies
As I’m doing what’s best for me at my own pace.

All the Months When There’s Hem

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Is there cause to cause mayhem though it may be June?
I should consult the Wiki folk. Maybe they know.
If I did a quick Google search perhaps I’d find
All the months when there’s hem so that I’ll stay behind
When those ripe for mayheming are willing to throw
All their sense toward the seizure by light of the moon.

 It makes sense that mayheming be done during May
Just as long as the heming is kept up to par.
If they outlawed June heming by April next year
Then would late April heming produce lesser fear?
Heming is much like J-walking. Some people are
Good at crafting slick short cuts to get through their day.

I’m for heming in May – not in June or July
Because warm months are those good for frolic and play.
I may mayhem in September as it cools down
Then partake of Oktoberfest while I’m in town.
Seems there’s no other month for mayheming but May
Though it’s outlawed in all months where Now does apply.

Evidence of Satisfaction

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I can find satisfaction within a small space
That is cordoned off mindfully upon this Now.
There’s no need to search hither, nor thither nor yon.
I can find something blissful to happen upon
Within any life circumstance. I can allow
Satisfaction to happen perhaps any place.

One could say that such mind trick would not work in hell.
That might surely be true if indeed one were there.
One could cry out in torment and billowing pain
Then remember he’ll never flash flood due to rain.
When I focus on good stuff, life’s not such a bear.
As I look for some novel things, I do quite well.

I can think of dear Abigail with her cold nose
And the fun ditsy dancing she does in the rain.
This – alone – makes my heart warm and fills me with joy.
I am not sentimental. I’m not being coy.
Simple logic dictates that there’s always some gain
In detecting my clues as the Evidence shows.

A Message from the Virgin General

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We all want to be healthy. I know I sure do.
That is why I eat only things I can digest.
Knowing that is not always the case, as I’ve found,
Sometimes I may consume what’s been cast to the ground.
What I swallow in error may keep me depressed
If I fail to eliminate all that’s untrue.

There’s a lot that is not healthy all around us.
I will pay some attention with caution in place.
With a mind like a trap, though, what I focus on
Can resent being caught and in no time be gone.
Though my health and my mind are tools I do embrace,
Staying healthy seems mundane – a chore to discuss.

I’ve an inkling for doing what wants to be done.
I’m my healthiest when I’m creating for fun.
I am earthy, so dogs in the back yard are cool.
Whether student or Prof. I find solace at school.
I am grateful I’ve no urge to tell anyone
That no work can get finished unless it’s begun.

The Big Question

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This one big simple question out-questions them all –
Is it good that there’s contrast, or should there be none?
We discern with our vision what’s dark from what’s light.

We compare subtle textures to see which feels right.
If we didn’t have bad times, we couldn’t have fun.
We perceive life by comparing big things and small.

There’s no struggle nor effort involved in the flight.
When the prize is in reach I locate it with ease.
My vibration is in tune with what can’t be seen.
It consumes what I’m after. My senses are keen.
If it weren’t for what’s not there, I’d flail in the breeze.
I must know what from whatnot to get through the night.

The big question is, Can I survive knowing that
Everything that I’m living depends on how well
I can tell what I’m wanting from what I do not?
I perceive life by contrast. This matters a lot.
I can navigate life like a bat out of hell.
There’s no blindness about me, nor will to combat.

Fork Out of Dodge

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I’m your Fork Out of Dodge – a proverbial guy.
I’m dramatic and forceful when it’s time to go.
Any fork undercover is grateful to be
Among those expelled first from Dodge most rightfully.
It’s the city most thought of when getting to know
The sensation of terror. The question is, Why?

Stuff can happen in any town. Why pick out one
To become the example of bad scenes to leave?
And since when does one’s safety depend on the fork?
People fork off in Kansas as well as New York!
Yet these questions are moot. I’d do best to conceive
My own clear understanding. It’s better than none.

I’m a Fork on the run and I haven’t got time
To be hanging around when the fan is turned on.
If you haven’t a fork who is stranded in Dodge
Then relax and partake of yourself a massage.
I will fly by the night. I will not wait ‘til dawn.
I am destined to grow toward a new paradigm.

The Brain is NO Mother of the Mind

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When the TV is turned on it has a nice sound
And a quality image through cable or air.
It may think that it knows not from whence it evolved.
It may ponder deep questions that will not be solved.
It may think that no signal would cause it despair.
But that’s NOT how the thing works. It’s not reason bound.

If you killed the TV… with a sledgehammer, say…
It would still get a clear signal from the One Mind.
But it wouldn’t receive on this physical plane.
It would not even function in this strict domain.
Yet the signal that lived through it is left behind.
The One Mind that’s transmitting has not gone away.

I’m aware that I’m conscious. My brain lets me know
Through perception. My senses tell me what is real.
I don’t think my receiver receives on its own.
Something Must Be Transmitting that’s yet to be shown.
When my brain turns to dust, the One Mind will reveal
All its secrets as I leave my hardware below.

Toward What End?

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What’s the point in my living? I will die someday.
That’s a fact that I’m good with, but while I’m alive
Do I have any guidance toward what is my goal?
Does the soldier-like cell by itself have a soul?
It seems now that I’m living, I’m doomed to survive.
Did some Masterful Being design it this way?

Toward what end is my being? Should I be the best
And the fastest among others who are like me?
If the cell is a soul – one who likes to play sports
And who fancies competitive games of all sorts
Then the cell has allowed me to physically be.
Should I feel like I’m special? Should I be impressed?

Mother Nature’s Machine is subconscious intent
Of all life that’s now living and all gone before.
It’s a psychokinesis done on a large scale.
It has gained much momentum so it will prevail.
My sole purpose for being here is to add more
To the whole of creation. That’s how it was meant.

Imagining The Imaginary

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It’s an ogre, this thing that we call the unknown.
When we try to define it, we go on a chase
Down through black holes and rabbit holes in hot pursuit
Of a unified theory no one can dispute.
One can say that the universe is a fine place
To consume worlds of wisdom that all may be shown.

One can think of a world that consists of pure thought
Where the objects are thoughtforms… ideals and the like.
It is populated by intent and belief.
With no issue of substance, one lives without grief.
One would not think of hiking or riding a bike.
One could run away thinking and never get caught.

It would seem a mysterious world has been found.
There is only a small bit of matter to see
Of this vast spatial fluid we travel within.
There’s a lot more that’s unseen. This is a big win.
Could it be that dark matter and dark energy
Are the spirit world? That would be rather profound!

That’s Not Allowed Here

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There’s a thin veil that separates heaven from earth
But we talk about ‘place’ as if it’s absolute.
The great world of the spirit is no place at all.
It would seem quite impossible for one to call
From one side to the other. That’s forbidden fruit.
One’s belief is the only connection of worth.

Just in case it’s the only connection one sees
It is all that one needs. Often faith it is called.
I can speak to aunt Martha who passed years ago
And who now offers fully what she’s come to know.
One good thing about faith is it keeps one enthralled
With sublime possibilities pondered to please.

One can build a contraption to link the two sides
In a manner consistent with physical law.
But our clever devices are left in the dust
By the spirits who made them. We’ll just have to trust
That our knowing what’s ‘over there’ could drop one’s jaw.
We contact them by default as they are our guides.

How’s It Going Today?

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Well, I got up this morning… The hedge needs a trim.
While I’m at it I might as well clean up that yard.
Though the leaves have not fallen yet they’re on their way.
In the meantime I’ll meditate, then start my day.
I know well how it’s going and life isn’t hard.
Things will work out as always. My future’s not dim.

I am God. So are You, as are all living things.
We have taken on form to give contrast a play.
As we do we define and express what we need.
As we help one another we cancel out greed.
We confront psychic crisis with public display
Of our loving and caring and all that it brings.

I should get some more weed killer while I’m about.
There’s a while before summer ends. I should be wise.
I can keep my yard clean. That is all I can do
Until I’m in the best place to offer what’s true.
How it’s going for me is a clever disguise
To embellish my own chaos rather than doubt.

You May Call Me O’Dude

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You may call me O’Dude and I won’t find that rude.
On the contrary, I feel it suits me just fine.
It’s a name that is general, and to be fair
It’s a name of affection from people who care.
I may not know your name and you may not know mine.
But we’re all here with tons of intention accrued.

I’m a friend of the friendly and friendless as well.
We are all in this creation. None are left out.
I would think we are here to uplift and respect
One another – a virtue we all can perfect.
If you think you don’t know me, I’ll leave you no doubt.
I am mirrored among you with so much to tell.

Know O’Dude has a message in that he has none.
There’s no trade-off for being who I need to be.
Not a name can have meaning unless it has wealth.
Not a name taken lightly will lead to ill health.
I’m a dude undercover. My spirit is free
To create as I’m living and having much fun.

The Future Is Not Real

What will come is imagined. It cannot be real
Because as one approaches, it then becomes now.
We can wait all we want for the future to come.
We can look toward the future ‘til eyes become numb.
But the future is now ever always somehow.
No such thing as the future can this now conceal.

What will come, as a construct, is birthed in the mind.
That which I call the future is meaningful to
I who must have my reference points for all my dreams
But I’m dreaming it all now however it seems.
This right now is a stable point for me to do
All I can to uplift myself by being kind.

It’s like chasing the sunset while speeding due west.
If I ever caught up with the future, there’d be
Such an ending of space time for me or for all.
But I can’t catch up! That’s how it is on this Ball.
Many futures become now as far as I see.
They become real by virtue of now’s I invest.

Abrahambra Cadabra Dispels All the Rumors

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Abrahambra Cadabra, Magician at Large,
Had her fans doing back flips to find out just why
She dropped out of the limelight to everyone’s shock.
Some had set up a vigil for prayer ‘round the clock.
She’s emerged from seclusion to breathe a brief sigh.
Had she taken some time for her soul to recharge?

This had nothing to do with her twin sister, Kate
Whom she’d turned to a chicken for upstaging her.
This had nothing to do with her romance with Keith
Though she’d only bump ugly with him underneath.
It turns out that her absence concerns her chauffeur.
Is he now a pineapple? We’ll just have to wait.

Miss Cadabra cadabbles in mystical things
As is true of her many fans throughout the land.
It’s no wonder the land makes the fondest ado
Of most frivolous happenings to delve into
When the starker alternatives tend to demand
Our attention toward hatred and all that it brings.

Huckle Buckle Beanstock

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My True Self is a person who’s in a high state
Far above all the contrast I find on the ground.
It’s a game we are playing – my True Self and me.
It will hide its self somewhere not easy to see.
Yet it’s out in the open where it can be found.
It will guide me by noticing when I feel great.

“Feeling Better!”, it tells me when I overcome
The conflict of the moment by making a shift
  In the thoughts I create. “Feeling Worse!”, it will say
When I let daily conflict lead my thoughts astray.
My True Self is a player who loves to uplift.
It can play the game well like the beat of a drum.

Getting ‘warmer’ or ‘colder’ was great as a child.
I had no trouble finding it given good clues.
And the player who hides it well knows where it is
So the one who is searching need not be a wiz.
All I need do is listen to the one self who’s
The most noble clue giver since humans were wild.

State of the Onion Address

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A sad state of affairs is the fate of us all
When sound Vegetable Science is outright ignored.
Though the onion is not an endangered species
We will cry when we hurt them, and some make us sneeze.
When one eats a raw onion, the mouth is a sword.
The hot breath becomes bated and ripe for a brawl.

The sad plight of the onion can be rectified
By our taking account of the facts that are clear.
We must accept our vegetables for who they are.
If we don’t listen to them, we set a low bar.
And, our onions are competent, though they appear
That they’re thin skinned and tend to not like being fried.

What I’m talking about here is nothing at all.
It’s an exercise and a good tweak for the mind,
Not a mind should be idle. That’s bad for the health.
It should penetrate consciousness by way of stealth.
A good mind that is nimble is one well designed
For engaging life’s challenges – big ones and small.

I AM the Center of the Universe

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It’s the center of all that is known to exist
That has baffled the minds of the best of the bunch
Of the bold astrophysicists paving the way
Towards a unified view that is destined to stay
In the consciousness as it confirms every hunch
That the center is everywhere. No place is missed.

This Big Bang that began such a long time ago
Is still going on now at a speed way past light.
It began as a pinpoint of tremendous mass.
It was singular, solid and devoid of class.
The great speck has now grown with unspeakable might.
How I got at the center is something to know.

When the speck came to be, nothing else was around
So, the speck was the center, entirely so.
Now, the speck, as the center, has taken on size,
It does not take a scientist to realize
That the center is everywhere it wants to go.
Every speck of the universe is sacred ground.

Buttock Brothers Hosiery

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We are Bob and Bill Buttock. Don’t give us no guff!
We have built a Brick Shithouse – One Hell of a store.
We know well what all women want next to their skin.
It’s a fact we know all things. So where to begin?
We’ve got feminine treats – affectations galore.
We are big businessmen who just go for that stuff.

We’ve no training in ‘Woman’ – no schooling at all.
Men can tell what a woman feels by how she looks.
If she looks like a flea-bitten bat on a fast
We can make her look healthy with duds that will last.
Our fine goods are of quality. We are not crooks!
Our commitment to help women makes us stand tall.

Stick your nose in our Buttock. Do come by today.
There’s a special promotional deal going on.
Buy a length of our hose at the regular price
Then we’ll shove you another one because we’re nice.
You may browse in content ‘til a new day will dawn
When all women of business will have it their way.

We Are ALL On a Spiritual Path

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I may think that I’m physical flesh, blood and bone
And that feels and seems so on the surface of things.
It’s the ‘surface’ I’m focused on – not my whole being.
In this world, I’m accustomed to hearing and seeing.
What can oft’ be perceived is no more than what brings
Sympathetic vibration to senses we own.

We are all on some sort of a spiritual path
Whether theist, agnostic or of no belief.
We are spirit before anything came to be.
All the beingness present is for all to see
If we sound off to others, we could cause them grief.
If we keep it up smartly, we could earn their wrath.

I can always be spiritual because I am
Of the dust of the earth but that dust made its way
Into being from nothingness simple and true.
All the matter we see came from ‘out of the blue.’
In my peace of that nothingness is where I stay
In full character seeming like I give a damn.

Got A Grip?

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Got A Grip? I just had one a minute ago
But it slipped away cunningly and awfully fast.
Sometimes when I think I have one by the balls
My firm grip becomes nothing. My spirit free falls.
How do I then recover from being downcast?
I learn what to hold on to. It’s worth it to know.

When I need a good grip I have learned to beware
Of those merchants who offer them at a cheap price.
Those unscrupulous bastards might sell me fake jaws
Then convince me to author, “For Whom the Tooth Gnaws.”
But my grip need not be some specific device.
It can be just an attitude – something like prayer.

I’ve a grip on my mission to know nothing more
Than whatever I’m interested in at the time.
I’ve a focus on clarity in my own way.
It provides me a vantage point from which to play
In a world where the contrast is somehow sublime.
I’ve a grip on just being my cause to explore.